


Lost for Words

by Melandra



Category: Marlows - Antonia Forest
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:30:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melandra/pseuds/Melandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three vignettes set in the Marlow's world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost for Words

1: Woodwork

Idly stroking Regina, Patrick watched as Peter’s tanned hands carefully sanded away. Eyes half-closed, he admired the determination with which his friend attacked the future bookshelf. In the dim light of the Old Shippen, he looked happy. As competent as Rowan. Nearly as good-looking as Gin.   
With a blissful shudder, Patrick imagined those hands caressing him with the same intensity Peter devoted to the wood.   
“Nearly ready, Fob,” Peter said, picking up rag and polish.  
Looking across the room, Patrick’s gaze met the dark and furious scowl emanating from the opposite corner. And instantly recognized a rival in that uncompromising stare. 

2 : Meeting

“Patrick, this is Mr West, who is helping us with the props for the charity performance.”  
The Merrick Boy, suitably suited and polished as befitted an MP’s son, duly smiled and shook hands. Then took a deep breath as he recognised the girl   
It would be so easy to say ‘Don’t you go to Kingscote ? Nick Marlow’s a friend of mine.”  
But ever since the play, he had retained a perfect mental image of the Falcon Angel, on her block. What if reality could not stand up to the pedestal he’d placed her on ? What if she simpered, giggled, gabbled ?  
Unbearable. And so he nodded and listened, dutiful Patrick, then turned away.

 

3: Future Imperfect

Esther felt sick. A hundred letters written and torn up. Hardly a day had passed when she had not picked up the phone to dial. Heavy hints on the desirability of an ever-present babysitter and the good local Comp had fallen on deaf ears. And now she’d run out of time. “Hi Nick,” she practised. “Hi, Nick.” How hard could it be ?  
Familiar blue uniform and blonde hair. Deep breath. She felt sick, dizzy. And then Daks wriggled and jumped, running to Nick.  
“Good hols ?” she asked, patting the panting poodle.  
But although she nodded and smiled, Nick’s eyes were cool as ice. And Esther’s heart sank. If only you could turn back time…

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Trennels, during a fanfic challenge.


End file.
